Forward fast ! six swing, then on . slow count ventilators;
butterfly wings clip electric wires and set in motion
generations of aviators whose teeth never stop night
grinding . tied bed to shallow probe.
Pendings might require a wardrobe of colours : bowel rust
where envy ant red eats; canopy teal as roots ‘n’ runners feud on
fault beast turfing.
In some neighborhoods, for base essentials it pays to shop
‘n’ pray; cast out rinds too stiff for pleats twist . turn the two
kiss cell affecting cheek.
You think not ? raise the shades; right
down the street / Shut the fuck up! Get in the car / transport
release speed; dreading every ‘n’ always sign our eyes tear
in receipt > you source so you full so Off me lift < fork
routers wave.
On landing cards stamp limits, what’s left to claim
short end lines . nearing which you could try a few morte
blinding flanks ? Hail Mary, rage ‘n’ grace, duty heavy
heart stretch marking.
The catch ? a real brain tosser; usually
for shirts on back only, sent pelting tail up North sheet
white cracks. Sorry, love, can’t be any more specific
– tonight, snap claws ? Chinese.
– W.W.
LESSING + QAT
Only now and then, when she found some spare time
To heed her lusty need to re-read herself
To revise herself that stepping-backwards way.
But, if Qat’s returns were Earth-bound, bound to time’s running
Down and out, Lessing’s impulse now is a sprout
Of a new feeling that he has all the time
In the world – for leaving both behind, and all
A few still-clothed ghosts in the street below might
Glimpse is the fluttering blur of a fellow
Taking his sweet time about his naked flight
Towards returning his borrowed book of blood and breath
To the archives of their addictive fictions
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 